reflections on entering the fray: life, art and politics at 76
Monday, December 01, 2014
For weeks I've been walking in my neighborhood, perhaps not always 10,000 steps each day, but enough steps to make three miles. This autumn, more than any other, I've looked at fallen leaves, all so different, so beautiful. Today, I picked up several oak leaves of such subtle colors that I was reminded of some of those San Antonio fabrics. Notice I am not mentioning a time when I will begin to sew and make something with these fabrics. I am thinking about them, though. A lot, since I began picking up leaves.
Every day, I carefully stack leaves between my thumb and fingers. Often bring home a few branches and always pictures. Makes a walk into a meander.
Did I not ever notice, before this particular autumn, that the row of pear trees on Idylwood Drive near Lawndale not only drop gold and red leaves, but patterned leaves in shades of green, yellow, brown and burnt umber. Each leaf is unique. Perhaps each leaf from these trees behaves differently to temperature, rain, sun and shade? Does the owner of this row of trees notice all this fallen beauty?